


City That Never Sleeps

by missingnolovefic



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, Fluff, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Slash if you squint, Sleepiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-17 01:36:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9298367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missingnolovefic/pseuds/missingnolovefic
Summary: Gavin comes home after a long trip of working for Burnie and with Dan. He can't quite remember if they hired the Vagabond, but there he is, in the middle of the penthouse.Gavin is too tired for this shit.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SquigglySky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquigglySky/gifts).



> Quick and dirty fluff headcanon turned ficlet for Sky who's feeling sick. Get well soon, vhenan!
> 
> It's gen, unless you pull on your slash goggles. Then it's definitely pre-slash.

Intellectually, Gavin knew they’d hired the Vagabond. He’d been there for the Armoured Truck heist and the Maze Bank robbery. In fact, Gavin was pretty sure that robbing the bank was the reason Geoff reached out to the mercenary. And somewhere in the back of his mind he vaguely recalled Geoff mentioning Vagabond joining the crew longterm if things panned out.

None of that helped make sense of the scene in front of him.

A guy in a black skull mask, presumably either the Vagabond or otherwise an imposter with a death wish, was lounging on the penthouse couch when Gavin trooped in, reading a book. He didn’t look up or greet Gavin, though, which might be for the best because Gavin couldn’t stop staring at his feet. Or more precisely, his fuzzy slippers.

His pink fuzzy bunny slippers.

Gavin must be more tired than he thought. He’d been on one plane or another for nearly twenty-four hours, meeting with contacts from Burnie and selling the new military-grade weaponry Dan managed to smuggle out before his B had to go on his next tour. It was the last time they could hang out, too, so Gavin stayed up until his next flight to catch up.

After forty-eight or whatever hours wide awake, the wired-up adrenaline-and-coffee-fuelled energy had leached away and left him an exhausted mess.

Plus the jet-lag. Did jet-lag add up or did you subtract the east from the west-going hours? Maybe the other way around? Who knows, certainly not Gavin when he’s dead on his feet. He’s just gonna insist it does until proven wrong and not care in the meanwhile.

Still. That left him with the image that Does Not Compute.

Gavin bit his lip, contemplating just slipping past the guy. He wasn’t really confident in his sneaking skills at the best of times, less so when he could barely keep his eyes open. He glanced back at the elevator, wondering if it wouldn’t be easier to leave again and just find a hotel to drop dead.

Gavin turned back again and startled, the black skull facing him directly.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, heart beating fast. “Uh, hi?”

Vagabond stared at him a moment longer before inclining his head. Gavin exhaled slowly, relieved.

“Um,” he mumbled, glancing between the mercenary and the dark corridor behind him that promised safety and a warm bed. “I’m not an intruder, please don’t shoot me?”

The Vagabond tilted his head. Threateningly? Gavin was too tired for this shit. Probably looked like shit, too, not his usual slick look. Fuck. Did Vagabond recognize him at all?

“I’m Gavin, remember? The guy with the asshole shades. Shit. Where the fuck did I put my sunglasses,” Gavin babbled, dropping his backpack on his suitcase to rummage through the various compartments, spilling half-empty snack packages and a water bottle on the floor. “I swear to God, if I forgot them in London I will-”

A chuckle stopped him dead, and Gavin looked up to the Vagabond shaking.

“It’s not funny!” Gavin squawked indignantly, stalking towards him to loom over the Vagabond. “They’re bloody expensive!”

He crossed his arms with a huff, watching the laughing Vagabond shrewdly. He knew this was a bad idea, but fuck it, he’d bunged up first impressions by now what did it matter? For some reason, a warm body to lean against seemed a lot more tempting than his lonely bed.

“Budge over,” he ordered, and the laughter stopped abruptly. The stupid blank mask was staring at him again, but from this close he could make out his piercing blue eyes. Whatever. “You heard me.”

He made a shooing motion, and slowly the Vagabond slid his feet off the couch, sitting down properly. Gavin eyed him up and down, then nodded imperiously. He flopped down directly next to Vagabond, curling his feet under himself and dropping his head on the backrest.

“Don’t kill me in my sleep,” he demanded, frowning as the words slurred a little. Fuck it. That was a problem for tomorrow Gavin, if he ever woke up. Or not, if Vagabond did end up killing him. The couch was comfy and still slightly warm from where Vagabond had been laying on it, making him feel drowsy. Shrugging, he closed his eyes.

He fell asleep almost instantly.

 

* * *

 

They entered the penthouse past 5 in the morning, loud and boisterous and more than slightly drunk. Geoff was the first to quiet down, freezing in the middle of the doorway.

“The fuck, Geoff, move,” Jack complained, pushing at the other gent’s back. Michael cackled.

“I- What?” Geoff sounded distracted, turning to look at them with wild eyes. “Am I seeing things?”

“I didn’t think you were that drunk, Geoff,” Jack answered drolly, shouldering past the older man. Then he paused, surveying the room. “Huh.”

“What?” Michael asked, curious now. He trailed in after the gents, following their line of sight towards the couch. “...the fuck.”

“Sssh,” Vagabond shushed them, turning his creepy-ass mask in their direction. Michael imagined he was frowning under there. He was reading a book, but that wasn’t what caught the other three off-guard.

Sitting next to Vagabond, head resting on his shoulder and drooling all over his leather jacket was Gavin, fast asleep.

“The fuck,” Geoff hissed - though noticeably more quiet than before. “What- Do I even want to know?”

Vagabond shrugged his unoccupied shoulder.

“He was tired,” he replied, sounding amused. Michael would not have pegged him as a guy who would put up with Gavin’s weird quirks.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Michael drawled, shaking his head. If Vagabond was fine with Gavin using him as a pillow, who was he to disagree? He wondered if he could get away with taking a blackmail photo. “He’s been on, what, five planes consecutively? Flying’s draining as fuck.”

Vagabond turned his mask towards him, before turning back to his book pointedly.

Well. Maybe just rub it in later. No need for blackmail just yet.

“Right,” Geoff said, shaking his head. Jack was picking up Gavin’s shit from the floor where he’d strewn it about. Michael joined his effort, not wanting to trip over an empty bottle in the middle of the night or early morning or whenever he got up again.

Vagabond didn’t reply. Fine, okay, good.

With a huff, Geoff stalked down towards the bedrooms, Michael following him shortly. He could greet his boi tomorrow, after they’ve both slept in. He vaguely wondered when Vagabond went to sleep, but ignored the thought.

Not his fucking problem.

**Author's Note:**

> Please point out any typos, I literally just wrote it pre-posting.


End file.
